


broken crown

by ohmygodwhy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, sat down to write the next ch of truce and this happened instead lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Zuko is born into fire, and in fire, he will live."</p><p>or</p><p>moments that shape a banished prince</p>
            </blockquote>





	broken crown

**Author's Note:**

> guess who just binge-re-watched the _entire_ damn series and remembered how great zuko's character development is like damn
> 
> first time writing for atla so i hope i did zuko justice

 

 i.

Zuko is born into fire. 

Fire _Nation_ , fire _prince_ , grandson of the Fire _Lord_ — and, he realizes a few (too many) years into his life, a fire _bender_. (He first discovers this when he is four- unlike Azula, who lit her first spark at the age of two- and although it’s nothing more than a tiny flame in his cupped hands, he looks at it with equal parts fascination and fear; it feels _alive_ and _beating_ and he’s unreasonably sad when it goes out).

He is born into fire- maybe raised in fire, really, shaped by fire. It’s in his blood, it’s flowing though his veins. And that is by all means a good thing- he’ll do his family proud with all this fire.

 

 ii.

His mother is soft. Hair, eyes, smile. She holds him close to her chest like he’s the most precious thing on the planet, like he’s some kind of treasure. Most of his earliest memories are of her, of her long dark hair falling in pools around him, tickling his skin, of her face drawn up in worry when he got sick (which was a few times too many), of her warm voice lulling him to sleep. Like everything else in his life, she is made up of fire- a campfire, the low kind that keep you warm even in the dead of night and feel insatiably like home. 

Where his mother is soft, his father is hard. Dark piercing eyes and even darker hair that flows regally, all sharp edges and a stern face. He doesn’t know if his father ever smiled at him when he was a child, when he was a baby. When Ozai looks at him, he looks at his skill, his worth, his value- all of which he can’t seem to find. He speaks to him gently sometimes, like the calm before a storm- it holds a feeling of dread, even if nothing ever happens. He is made up fire too; something burning, simmering right beneath the surface, waiting for the opportunity to escape- like a geyser without the earthly beauty. Even as a child, Zuko wonders what approval would look like on his face, and wants so desperately to see it.

 

 iii.

There are facts that he learns, things solidified in his mind from the moment objet permanence becomes a thing: he is a prince of the fire nation, the greatest nation; his mother is the kindest and most beautiful person in the world; his father is powerful and terrifying and always right; his sister is a prodigy.

He is not a prodigy. His fire is nothing but a flickering match compared to his sister’s. This disappoints his father. He can’t disappoint his father.

When they’re very young, they go on vacations during the summer. They’re rich- they’re _royalty_ \- so they have a huge house on Ember Island, big enough to house them and Uncle and Lu Ten if they want to come, and there’s still enough extra room to fit in a bunch of servants if they ever have to. They don’t have to _do_ anything on these vacations- he and Azula play on the beach and his father walks with a hand on his shoulder and they are a family when they’re on that island, happy and carefree with time at their fingertips and countless things to do. On Ember Island, they aren’t princes and princesses, they aren’t the royal family.

They are very much the royal family in the palace. The whole place is decorated with dark reds and blacks and flaming insignias, and so are they, so is he. They are the picture of Fire Nation perfection, and yet he can barely bend.

(It’s not too big a problem when he’s younger- he has time to learn, give him time to learn, to grow up a little, his mother says. But there are too many slip ups and too many excuses. Mother says he’ll get it, that he’s strong, that he’s trying. Father says little other than the usual try again, do better, I’m disappointed, and those are things usually said with his eyes; Zuko is generally ignored) 

 

 iv.

He practices his katas over and over and over and over again, the harsh reminders in the form of tingling singes on the back of his neck, doesn’t stop until he gets it perfect, and that usually takes an aggravatingly long time.

His cousin Lu Ten finds him training one day, huffing in frustration. He helps him with his stance, with the placement of his arms, and it doesn’t take him as long to get it right. Lu Ten smiles at him- he’s kind to him, plays with him, doesn’t look at him with distain or annoyance, Zuko wants to be like him when he gets older- and Zuko smiles back.

 

 v.

His sister is one of the many things he does not understand.

He used to wonder what it would be like to have a little sister, used to daydream about all the things he would teach her when Mother got pregnant, used to plan out the games they could play, all the ways he would protect her. He wasn’t counting on becoming the inferior one, the one who had to play her games. He wasn’t counting on Azula.

“Wow, that one almost seemed hot,” she says with that infuriating smile and a mocking clap of her hands when she stumbles across him bending one day, trying to get this impossible (not impossible for her) move right.

“But this is what _real_ fire looks like,” and she holds out a hand and everything pours from it so effortlessly, like she can push a button and turn up the power and unleash fiery destruction without even trying. Maybe she can.

She teases him and argues with him and sets his ponytail on fire once. And he wants to hate her, he wants so much to just _hate_ her, but he can’t. Because Azula is (better, she’ll always be better, always be stronger, more skilled, more powerful- the child- the _bender-_ Father’s always wanted) horrible, yes, but also his little sister.

Spirits, she was seven years old and spouting things that left him wide eyed and his mother gaping. Off handed remarks like “If Uncle Iroh died, Dad would be next in line to be Fire Lord, right?” And- and what was he supposed to say to that, other than the usual ‘how could you say that? why would you say that?’ His mother was the one who was good with words and his mother was the one who’d give her that look, the one that made the receiver feel vaguely like they were the worst person in the world.

Azula got that look a lot.

Zuko did not.

It never deterred her.

 

 vi.

Uncle Iroh is off at war, and so is cousin Lu Ten.

It’s a vague concept to him, this war. It’s a necessary thing, he knows, they’re doing good by it- the world will fall apart without this. They are a great nation and they want the world to see that, to join that. They want the world united, and to do that, the world has to be one. Fire is the superior element, the superior nation.

He accepts this at face value, accepted it before he could understand the way letters formed words, let alone understand the meaning behind the words his uncle writes home now. They fly over his head and fill him with a drilled in pride as he holds the knife taken from a Be Sing Se general, the special little inscription sent specifically to him. _Never give up without a fight,_ it says — he wonders vaguely why that fallen general would have a knife like this if he readily surrendered.

And then Lu Ten dies.

And a part of Uncle Iroh dies with him.

Azula calls their uncle weak, pathetic, like she feels _nothing_ for their cousin.

Zuko feels slightly hollow and sick to his stomach. He puts the knife under his pillow and is told their family is seeking an audience with the Fire Lord.

 

 vii.

“Dad’s gonna kill you,” Azula sings like it’s the best thing she’s ever heard, showing up in the middle of the night after that disaster of a family meeting. She sings and she imitates and she swings around on his bed post like this is all a game to her, like she doesn’t hear the words coming out of her own mouth.

Zuko doesn’t believe her, of course- he can’t, she’s crazy, she lies, she always lies, Father wouldn’t do something like that to him, he wouldn’t he wouldn’t- but that doesn’t stop the cold fear from settling in the back of his throat like it always does, because he’s good at being afraid, good at being worried, and he hates himself for it.

Father wouldn’t kill him. He’s been doing better lately, see, been doing better before yesterday happened- the shame of messing up in front of his father and the _Fire Lord_ is still burning his cheeks. But he wouldn’t _kill_ him. He wouldn’t kill him, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he—

Mother shows up again after he’s fallen asleep. He is half-conscious and she’s apologetic and hurried and dressed in a long black cloak that makes her seem like a part of the shadows.

“No matter how things may seem to change,” she says, holding him close and warm against her campfire chest, “Never forget who you are.”

When he wakes up, she is gone.

Azula tells him in the way Azula does that their mother is gone and their grandfather is dead and their father will become the new Fire Lord, holding his knife like a toy and taunting him with her absence and it makes his blood run cold.

For once he isn’t afraid to demand something of his father. Not for the first time, his father doesn’t answer.

 

 viii.

When Uncle Iroh returns from the war, he hugs Zuko.

It’s a silent hug, heavy and tight and gentle and it holds more than either of them could ever say.

“Mom is gone.” Zuko says- whispers- later, face buried in the soft folds of Uncle’s robes, “I think it’s my fault.”

Uncle just lets out a shuddering breath and mumbles something about talking to Father later and holds him closer.

Lu Ten is gone and so is his mother.

Zuko lets himself cry.

 

ix. 

Mother was the wall between Zuko and Azula’s fighting; she stopped things before they went too far. She was the wall between Zuko and his father; she defended him when he needed it, helped him pick up the pieces of his determination after the worst was over.

Mother is gone. There is no wall.

Mother is gone, and no one else seems to notice, no one else seem to care. He asks, and people change the subject, refuse to look at him, _walk away_ from him. It’s like she never existed, or maybe never left. Like they’re supposed to pretend she’s still here, ignore the empty chair at the silent dinner table, forget the years she spent, never talk about Ember Island, never mention her name.

Zuko feels like he is choking.

Mother is gone, there is no wall, and Zuko is falling behind.

Azula is fourteen sets ahead of him- _fourteen,_ all of them of course perfectly executed, and he is struggling to complete _one;_ he goes over the motions one, two, three times, but he just can’t do it _right._

Mother is gone, and he is now the heir to the throne, the firstborn, the prince. But Azula is the prodigy, the favorite, the better of the two.

“Azula was born lucky,” Father says, dark eyes boring into him and ripping him open, and Zuko thinks that maybe his father wishes Azula was the heir, “You were lucky to be _born.”_

Mother is gone, and they learn their colors from bruises and scorch marks and how much he can manage to mutter to himself until Father gets angry.

He learns how to hold his breath as a flame dances just above the skin of his neck, head held unforgivingly in place, learns how to get shakily back to his feet when he is left alone with a ‘don’t come to dinner until you’ve perfected it’ and a stomach full of terror. Learns how to take angry words spat like fire without giving anything away, without letting the salty sting behind his eyes get out, without looking him in the eye because there are times for that and this is not one of those times.

They learn- he and Azula, because she is not always perfect either, no matter how she might act. Father hardly ever _does_ anything, really- only when he has to, when they’ve pushed him too far, and Zuko knows it’s always his fault and he always deserves it- but his eyes and his words have the same effect.

But sometimes- sometimes it’s a slight nod or a ‘that wasn’t half bad’ or ‘maybe there’s some hope for you yet’.

Zuko clings to those rare jewels with everything he has, no matter if Azula rolls her eyes at him, because he’ll make his father proud, he will.

 

 x.

The first time he sees dual dao swords, his first instinct is to touch, to hold, to feel the swords in his hands- they’re _beautiful_ , hanging on the wall of a shop his uncle managed to drag him along to like they’re _waiting_ for him.

(He’s not sure how they wind up in the weapons’ room back at the palace, but he’s pretty sure it has something to with Uncle).

The first time he holds them, he’s left in a detached sort of awe- cold and smooth and balanced perfectly, they feel like they’re meant for his hands. He really has no idea how to use them- he hasn’t trained in anything but his bending- but he finds that he really, _really_ wants to.

“So we’ll find you a teacher,” his uncle says simply when Zuko asks him- him and not his father, because his father would never approve, he’s said before that bending is the most important skill to master. By some unspoken agreement, his uncle doesn’t mention anything to Ozai, simply finds him a teacher (Master Piandao, he says, one of the greatest sword fighters in the Fire Nation, much to Zuko’s horror) and wishes him luck.

Considering their first meeting consists of Piandao walking in to see Zuko swinging the swords around and making swishing sounds like a kid, it’s amazing he has the dignity to look the man in the eye.

He’s a good teacher though, kind and patient and he treats Zuko with respect. And, by some sort of miraculous work of the spirits, Zuko’s actually really _good_ at it, at using the blades, and it comes much easier than his bending ever did.

By the time his father finds out, he can almost- _almost, almost-_ beat the master in a spar.

(It’s hard to practice with no teacher and the red hot imprint of a large hand on his right shoulder, but he does, because this is something not even Azula can do. This is _his,_ and he won’t let anyone take it away.)

 

 xi.

He is thirteen years old and heir to the throne when he finally attends a war meeting.

Somehow, it doesn’t quite live up to his expectations, all pompous old generals who talk about their soldiers’ lives as though they really are just figures on a map set up for a demonstration. Like they really are just _fresh meat,_ best used as _bait._

He is thirteen years old and heir to the throne when he stands up against all better judgment and yells at the pompous old general.

His input is not welcome- he wasn’t even supposed to be at the damn meeting- and he realizes his mistake a moment later, when all the eyes in the room are on him and his father’s voice echoes through the chamber.

 _Agni Kai,_ he says, and Zuko can do nothing but stand up straight and look the old man in the eyes and declare that he is not afraid. He’ll finally prove to his father that he is not afraid—

But he is afraid. He is very afraid, trembling on his feet because it was supposed to be the general, the old man _, he thought it was going to be the general._

When you disrespect someone in the Fire Lord’s war room, he learns, you disrespect the Fire Lord himself.

Zuko apologizes; he drops to his knees before half of the goddamn Nation, he pleads, begs, throws away his pride, but he won’t fight this man- he won’t fight his father.

“You will learn respect,” his father says, a looming figure before him, a hand reaching towards him, “And suffering will be your teacher,”

He is crying, he realizes vaguely, palms flat against the cold stone of the arena floor. A hand digs into his pulled back hair and _holds him there_ and he sees a palm full of dancing flames and then the world explodes in agony.

He wonders with a detached sort of horror how the scream that tears itself from his throat is possibly his- it’s a horrible sound, scratchy and painful, and it _hurts_.

 _It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts he can’t breathe he can’t breathe it hurts_.

One of the only coherent thoughts his burning mind can conjure up is the fact that he’s never smelled burning flesh before.

He doesn’t like it very much.

 

 xii.

Uncle Iroh is the one to carry him out of the arena.

He realizes this vaguely, feels the world shift as he’s picked up, feels the weight of each step his uncle takes, feels his uncle’s hand in his through the haze of half-consciousness, feels his whispers- “I’m so sorry, my nephew. I shouldn’t have let you in, I’m so sorry,”- hitting his ears like a quiet mantra.

Zuko wakes briefly, asking for his father, asking how bad it is, all half-conscious high-fevered apologies— _I’m sorry I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry I didn’t fight back, I’m sorry, sorry, sorry_ — but is quickly lost to unconsciousness again.

The next time he wakes up, he’s on a ship.

The ocean rocks the floor beneath his bed in a way that makes him nauseous, and he aches all over. The left side of his head feels oddly heavy, and he finds he can’t open his left eye- it’s the main focus of the ache. He doesn’t want to think about what that means.

Uncle Iroh comes in a few minutes later, wearing an odd mixture of relief and dread when he sees that he’s awake and cautiously sitting up. He wonders what expression he himself is wearing- he feels exposed in front of his uncle, exposed in general.

“Where are we?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. He is vaguely irritated with how small his voice is, how cracked and tired.

Uncle takes a moment to consider his words, taking a seat next to the bed. “A ship,” he says quietly, “We’ll be out of Fire Nation waters by nightfall.”

Zuko lets the words hang in the air and he doesn’t understand until… _oh._ Oh.

“Oh.” He looks at the sheets draped over his body, “Exile.”

Uncle confirms this with his silence.

“Don’t I at least get to… to say goodbye?” his voice cracks, and he hates it.

“We had to leave as soon as possible,” Uncle says remorsefully, like this is somehow his fault.

“…Did Father come to see me?” he asks, and he is a child kidding himself.

Uncle says nothing, and this silence is a no.

Until, “He did say,” his uncle’s voice is slow, hesitant, “That there is a way for you to return home, to return with your honor,” here, he pauses, “If you find and capture the Avatar.”

Zuko feels like he is falling.

“But that’s-“ he lifts his head- too quickly, he’s dizzy- and doesn’t bother trying to hide his fear, his confusion, because, “No one’s seen the Avatar in over a hundred years.”

He doesn’t like this new, silent Uncle Iroh, the one who bows his head and puts a hand on his shoulder and lets him grip the sheets hard enough to hurt, lets the hopeless demands of the situation sink in and lets his thoughts reel and lets him cry. (Like a _child_ \- it’s disgusting).

“If there is one thing you can do, Prince Zuko,” his voice is warm and impossibly gentle, and he uses his title like they aren’t on a ship heading for foreign waters, “It is finding a legend.”

He doesn’t know whether it’s an encouragement or a prison sentence.

But Father wouldn’t- he wouldn’t give him this task if it was _impossible_ — it’s a _test_ he has to pass. He’s wronged his father, wronged his nation. He is no fool; he knows this is a fool’s quest; but if this is the only way he can right his wrong, then he’ll do it.

He’ll do it.

He has to.

 

 xiii.

The first few months are the worst.

His first night at sea, Uncle brings him noodles and the tea they used to drink together in front of the turtleduck pond, and he sits with him until he falls asleep 

(“Why are you here?” Zuko asks, staring at the steam rising from the teacup.

“In your room?”

“No, I mean- why are you _here?_ Why are you still on the ship?”

“Oh. I’m coming with you,” Uncle answers easily.

“What? But why? I’m _exiled._ I can’t just… let you leave everything behind.”

 “Prince Zuko, I am an old, retired general. I can take time to travel with my nephew.” He smiles, and it feels like an apology, “And someone needs to help further your firebending training. Now eat, you need to rest.”)

Zuko misses his bed.

Seeing his scar for the first time is one of the worst moments of his life. He’s not stupid, he’d known it wouldn’t be _pretty_ but—

But he stares, wide eyed at his ( _his?)_ reflection until the shame catches up with him and his fist makes contact with the glass, and it’s a haze of Uncle rushing in at the sound and _don’t look at me don’t look at me it’s hideous disgusting disgraceful please don’t look_ until he eventually calms down.

He doesn’t look in the mirror again for the next week.

Instead, he busies himself with work- he’s never had a job before, if this qualifies. So he plans and he looks over maps and he learns all he can about the Avatar, the one he has to catch, the one he has to find, and he trains, because-

“I don’t have time to _rest,_ Uncle. I’m going to be facing someone who’s had years to master _all four elements_. I have to be ready.”

He nearly gives Uncle and that Lieutenant he found (Jee, Zuko thinks) heart attacks a few times when he passes out where he stands. But he gets back up and he does it again and again and again because he is stubborn as hell and he will be ready to face the Avatar and ready to go home.

(They visit all the Air Temples. The destruction he sees there- done by his own people, he thinks somewhere in the back of his mind- is almost enough to make him cry. But that little kid is gone, burned away, and he takes great care to stomp him into the ashes.)

(He sets a box full of bones afloat in the water and sends it off with a burst of fire. He doesn’t have the time or the will for a real funeral service. Besides, he didn’t know these people).

 

 xiv.

He gets the letter about a year into his banishment. It’s barely a page long, a lot of scribbles and crossed out illegible words, but the message basically boils down to a clean, precise, “You’ll never come back.” Azula is thousands of miles away, but he can hear her voice perfectly.

He considers burning it right there in his hands. He glares at it for the better part of two minutes before huffing and tucking the letter away in his quarters.

 

 xv.

When he finally finds the Avatar, it’s by sheer luck— a pillar of light shining far away. If he’d been looking the opposite direction, he might never have seen it.

He’s been through this before- finding a lead, knowing he’s reached his goal, failing again when the trail runs cold. Nearly three years at sea have made him bitter and angry (he throws horrible words at his uncle far too much, and at this point he really has no idea why the old man stays) but this time he _knows._

And he’s right.

Nearly three years he’s spent preparing for this moment, preparing to meet his destiny, and it suddenly feels like one big horrible joke— the master of all elements is a twelve year old monk hiding away in a water tribe village the size of his shoe, and he’s been searching for _three years._

He promises to leave the little village alone if the Avatar comes with him.

He keeps his promise. The Avatar does not.

He is humiliated and his ship is left in ruins in the side of a mountain. He won’t underestimate him again.

 

 xvi.

The Avatar is a twelve-year-old boy who flies from place to place on impulse, traveling with two Southern Water Tribe peasants- a girl who conveniently lost her necklace, and her brother, who hit him with a _boomerang_ of all things when he first showed up at their village.

He follows them this way and that, always on their trail and somehow always one step behind— behind them and behind _Zhao_ , who calls him a traitor and treats him like trash even when Zuko wins their Agni Kai.

Zhao, who smiled as he watched his father burn him, who had the _nerve_ to ask after him afterwards, who treats him like a child when this is _Zuko’s_ job, his _only_ way to get back home, and he’ll be damned if he lets the crazy bastard take it away from him.

So when the man does manage to capture the Avatar, Zuko meets the Blue Spirit.

The Blue Spirit fights and dances and grins and works hand in hand with the Avatar to escape, almost gets caught himself. The Blue Spirit breaks the Avatar out, and gets an arrow to the forehead and a childish question for his troubles.

Zuko watches the Avatar dart away from him yet again, and Zuko stares at the insignia in his quarters- _“If we knew each other back then, do you think we could’ve been friends too?”-_ until he falls asleep.

 

xvii.

Zhao finds the Blue Spirit. So he tries to blow him up.

Instead of dying or drowning in the ocean like the bastard wants, Zuko hides away on his ship with the help of his Uncle.

Zhao tries to invade the Northern Water tribe.

Zuko gets in first. (Granted, he has to find his way through a bunch of freezing cold underwater tunnels, but he still does it).

Zhao tries to _kill the goddamn moon spirit._

Uncle manages to save it with the help of the Water Tribe princess, because fixing the mistakes of crazy bastards is one of the things he does best.

And Zuko- Zuko actually manages to capture the Avatar this time— he has him in his grasp, he pulls him through the snow, he takes refuge in a _cave._ Zuko _has_ him, right where he needs him, and once the storm blows over, he’ll go _home._

Zuko has him, and then he looses him. The Airbender’s _friends_ show up- again, again. The girl beats him easily (she’s _surrounded_ by her element). For some, inexplicable reason (he’s sure it has something to do with the kid), they don’t leave him to die.

Zuko tries to save Zhao.

Zhao _looks him in the eye,_ and refuses to take his hand. Zuko watches him be swept away.

They loose- the Fire Nation, he and Uncle. They loose. The two of them just barely get away, and Zuko is tired- _Agni,_ he’s so tired.

He lies down on the makeshift raft, and they float along in the watery graves of countless Fire Nation soldiers for three weeks straight 

 

 xviii.

After almost three long years of sailing and searching, Zuko finally sees his sister again. And for once, it’s a good thing. Because—

Because Father wants him home, Father’s _changed his mind_. Zuko has wished countless times for a moment like this, for a moment when Father decides he wants him back, he’s had to talk himself down and push the daydreams out of his mind because he’s not a child anymore, but it’s not a dream this time because _Father wants him back._

Uncle is suspicious and Zuko’s fiery words are back full force, because _he cares about me this is a good thing why can’t you be happy about this._

But Uncle is right, like he always is. And Azula lies, like she always does. She was sent to bring them home in chains, and Father thinks he’s a disgrace.

So they run, because there’s no way in hell Zuko’s being locked up by his little sister, and no way in hell he’s going home as a traitor— traitor; the word rings in his head as he cuts off his ponytail with one good slice ( _never give up without a fight,_ the knife reminds him, but maybe that’s exactly what they’re doing), and he wants to throw up.

 

 xix.

They are traitors, fugitives, and surviving in the wilderness is not something he learned to do.

They get help from strangers. Zuko steals from them.

Uncle offers good advice. Zuko decides to leave.

He’s not very good at making mutually beneficial decisions.

 

 xx.

He’s never starved before. He’s done many things in his sixteen years, he’s been all over the world, but he’s never ridden for days on end in the dessert with no food and even less water. It’s not pleasant, or something he ever wants to do again, but he doesn’t regret his decision to split up.

He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he has to find it by himself.

When he finally comes to a village, he barely has enough money to feed his ostrich-horse, and he can’t even do that when the Earth Kingdom soldiers take away what he just payed for.

He meets a boy, who really just drags him to his house— his parents are kind people (too kind, in a world like this) who give him food and a place to stay for the night in exchange for work he honestly can’t do very well. He shows the boy how to use his dao swords, gives him his knife, and, because children are reckless, fights the bully soldiers when the kid pulls the knife on them.

He’s losing, with just his swords, he’s weak and tired and tired of being weak, “Never forget who you are,” his mother told him.

So he uses his fire, and the people hate him for it (hate _who he is_ , because he is a _firebender_ and firebenders cause destruction wherever they go).

The boy rejects the knife.

Zuko keeps moving.   

 

 xxi.

Lightning doesn’t strike when you want it to. It strikes when you’re vulnerable, when you least expect it, when you can’t strike back.

Zuko watches in horror as his uncle falls to the ground, lightning shooting through his body with a crack ( _he’s gonna die, he’s gonna die he’s hurt he’s gonna die please no_ ). And then his anger’s back, the kind he thought burned out of him at the North Pole. It surges through his body and into his fire and of course- of _course_ \- even with all of them working together (he never thought he’d stand against a common enemy with the Avatar, but Azula is always the exception) she gets away.

“Zuko, I can help,” says the Water Tribe girl, with disgusting _sympathy_ in her voice and Uncle is hurt, they’ll get close and go in for the kill _don’t come near him leave us alone go away._

By some kind of miracle of the fucking spirits, he manages to carry Uncle to one of the abandoned buildings, manages to wrap the wound, tries to make some of Uncle’s tea (he wishes he’d payed more attention whenever the man talked about it), plans to stay awake until Uncle wakes up.

 _I’m sorry,_ is all he can think, all he can breathe _, I shouldn’t have left, I didn’t accomplish anything, you shouldn’t have come looking for me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

Lightning doesn’t strike when you want it to. It doesn’t strike when you’re angry, when you’re strong enough to take it, when you have something to give back.

His Uncle is alive and okay and won’t train him any further, won’t strike him because he cares, because Zuko ‘isn’t ready for it yet’. So he stands on top of the highest mountain he can find and yells at the sky in the middle of a raging storm, yells because he’s so fucking _angry_ — angry at _everything_ because his father doesn’t want him back and he has nowhere to call home and his Uncle got hurt because of him and people hate him when they find out what he is and he doesn’t even know _that_ anymore, doesn’t know _who the hell he is_ and he’s so _angry_ about it.

But lightning doesn’t strike when you want it to, so he’s just a kid yelling out his frustration to a world that won’t listen.

 

 xxii.

They head to Ba Sing Se.

“Ba Sing Se is full of refugees. No one will notice two more.”

From fugitives to refugees. About the farthest from royalty you can get.

On the ferry, he meets a boy with the world in his smile and fire in his eyes. He steals food from the fat happy captain with the boy- _Jet_ \- and his friends, because hell, he’s tired of eating like a stray being fed scraps, and Jet looks at him like he _wants_ to be around him. It’s a far cry from all the other people his age that he’s known.

He’s asked to join the _Freedom Fighters_ — Jet’s _gang,_ really, though the name sounds more like a little kids’ club— and he seriously contemplates saying yes. But then he remembers why he’s here, remembers why all these people are here, and knows that he can’t.

It’s Uncle and his damn tea that really destroy his chances though. Of course it is. He sees the glint in Jet’s eyes and knows he’ll never be asked to join again.

And that’s fine by him; he doesn’t want to make a life here. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to become a slip of a refugee in a city full of them. He doesn’t want to disappear.

And with a different name, a different identity, a different home- hell, they work at a _tea shop_ \- it’s a miracle he hasn’t already.

Uncle, at least, seems happy. He seems content here in the city he almost conquered, serving tea and sleeping in a plain apartment and living like a peasant. Zuko doesn’t know what to think about that.

(Jet comes after them- a part of Zuko had known that he would. Jet gets dragged off by Dai Li agents, and Zuko feels something like guilt flicker in the back of his throat. He hopes vaguely that the fire in Jet’s eyes doesn’t go out).

 

xxiii.

“It’s time to start asking yourself the big questions.” Uncle’s voice echoes around the huge chamber— huge enough to hold the Avatar’s bison, huge enough to hold the Blue Spirit and Zuko and Uncle Iroh, who _wasn’t supposed to be here._

(But nothing ever works out how it’s supposed to, and with everything that’s happened, maybe there isn’t really a ‘supposed to’ anymore.)

“Who _are_ you?” he hasn’t heard Uncle this worked up in a long time; these are always the times his words shake Zuko the most, “And what do _you_ want?”

_What do you want?_

What _does_ he want?

He looks at the animal before him, looks at the path ahead of him (get the bison to the surface, figure out how to keep it until the Avatar comes to him, figure out how to capture the Avatar, figure out how to get out of the city, figure out so many unknowns that his head hurts just thinking about it and maybe Uncle is right, he’s horrible at thinking things through).

The bison goes free, and the Blue Spirit drowns.

He gets sick, and he dreams.

He feels _content_ when he wakes up. He feels… he feels _nice._ Things are good- he’s not going home, he’s not in the palace, but here, in this city, things are looking up 

 

 xxiv.

And then Azula shows up.

She shows up, and offers him things he’s wanted for so long- everything he’s wanted for _three years_ , everything he’d just decided he doesn’t want anymore, doesn’t need anymore.

His honor, his home, his crown, his father’s approval— _everything,_ and Agni above, he just- he wants to go _home._

(“The only way we win,” Azula says, “Is together).

He betrays Uncle.

(“Don’t be silly, Uncle was the one who betrayed you,” Azula says).

He watches the Avatar fall.

(“Father will be proud,” Azula says).

He listens to Azula instead of Uncle.

He lets them drag Uncle away in chains.

He let Mai kiss him on the boat ride home.

He lets the crowd cheer as he’s declared a hero to his nation.

He lets Father look him up and down and judge him worthy (worthy, worthy, accepted, finally accepted).

None of it feels like it should.

 

 xxv.

Uncle doesn’t talk to him. He sits in his cell with his back turned and lets Zuko plead, lets Zuko yell, lets Zuko _insult_ him and Zuko feels worse and worse every time he leaves. He feels sick to his stomach, feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, feels out of place here in the nation he grew up in.

This was the right thing to do, Uncle is a traitor, he is a hero, Uncle is a traitor, Father wants him, he is a hero, a prince, the son Father’s always wanted and Uncle is a traitor so _why does it all feel so twisted?_

If letting Uncle Iroh (the one who stayed by his side on the sea for three years, the one who helped him with his bending more times than he can count, the one who nursed him back to health when his father- his _father_ \- burned him and sent him on a pointless journey, the _only_ one who talked about his mother with him after she left) rot in a jail cell is the right thing to do, he’s not so sure what side he’s on.

So when Uncle finally does talk to him, when he learns that he might be able to change things, when he learns that maybe he’s not a horrible treasonous bastard for thinking the things he does, he decides.

He chooses.

For the first time in a long time, he chooses for himself.

 

 xxvi.

Maybe he is a coward for telling the truth during the eclipse, but this is the only time he can make his father listen without being reduced to ashes.

And it’s during the eclipse, when his father snarls at him and mocks him, that he sees him, that he _sees_ his father for what he is:

A man that was going to kill his own son for the throne, a man who challenged a 13-year-old boy to an Agni Kai for _talking out of turn,_ _branded_ him, banished him when he refused to fight, sent him on an impossible mission so he’d never have to see him again. A man who he used to look up to, used to respect, a man who never deserved any of the devotion he gave to him, who left him with a fucked up self-esteem and a guilt complex deeper then the goddamn ocean. A man who uses his children like tools and would watch the world burn so he could rule whatever’s left.

His father is a monster, and he hates himself for being used for so many years, hates himself for not seeing things sooner.

Maybe he is a coward for telling the truth during the eclipse, but he is not enough of a coward to sit idly by while the world burns.

His father shoots him with lightning. Zuko redirects it.

Uncle Iroh is gone.

Zuko sets off to help the Avatar.

 

xxvii.

All things considered, he sort of expected the ‘getting the Avatar to accept him as a firebending teacher’ thing to take a lot longer.

But they are in the middle of a war with a deadline quickly approaching, and he supposes he proved himself well enough trying to fight off the assassin and all, so he really should be grateful.

They all keep their distance at first. They all watch him like he’ll attack the moment they look away. A month ago, he probably would have.

The earthbender, Toph, is surprisingly the first one to accept him wholeheartedly. Maybe it’s because she wasn’t around in the beginning, when he was at his worst. Maybe it’s because she can tell he’s not lying. Either way, he glad at least one person doesn’t look at him like he might kill them, even if he did burn her feet.

Aang is the first one to warm up to him. Maybe it’s because Zuko basically makes a fool out of himself during their first firebending session (he can’t bend, it doesn’t work). Maybe it’s because the Blue Spirit saved him all that time ago. Maybe it’s because he can see that Zuko’s trying.

They visit the ancient Sun Warrior ruins. It’s beautiful, and sad, because all the dragons are gone and it’s once again his family’s fault.

They meet the masters, and it’s beautiful and sad because here are the last two dragons, and here is the last airbender, and his family is yet again to blame. And it feels like everything that’s happened, everything they went through, every encounter and fight and sacrifice, has led up to this moment.

The Fire Prince and the Avatar, standing back to back.

In that moment, Zuko _understands_. In that moment, everything is perfect 

 

 xxviii.

Sokka is the oldest boy in his tribe, older brother to the waterbender Katara, the ‘meat and sarcasm’ guy, as he so eloquently put one day. Also, the plan guy.

Sokka is the closest one to Zuko’s age in the group. Sokka is not a bender. Zuko’s not sure whether or not Sokka like him very much. Sokka pulls him aside one night and asks him about Fire Nation prisons, asks so he can save his father.

Zuko’s not quite sure why he offers to go with him, why he offers to help. (Maybe it’s because he wants _someone_ to be happy with their father, because he wants this boy to be happy with his father, wants this boy to be happy and proud of himself after everything Zuko’s put him through.) He can’t let him do this alone. It’s basically suicide either way, but he won’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t try to help.

Sokka talks with him about Uncle and choices and girlfriends.

They disguise themselves as guards and Zuko gets caught.

Sokka’s father isn’t here.

Because he has the best luck in the world, the warden is Mai’s uncle and he’ll no doubt do something _very_ bad if they don’t escape soon.

He’s surprised to hear _worry_ in Sokka’s voice when he checks up on him, worry for _him._

He firebends his way into the cooler and thanks Agni for his uncle and the breath of fire.

They have to postpone their escape plan because Sokka’s father might be coming in on the next gondola and Zuko’s already gotten himself thrown into a cell, so he’ll wait another night if it’ll make it _mean_ something.

When they’re escaping (after he locks Mai in a cell, after they kidnap the warden), Zuko jumps, ignoring the blasts of fire behind him and hoping with everything he has that Sokka will catch him. He does. Zuko returns the favor when the boy is sliding off of the gondola roof.

Mai saves them from Azula. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth, because he _knows_ his sister, and she won’t be pleased.

But they’ve rescued Sokka’s dad and that Kyoshi Warrior Suki, so maybe her sacrifice wasn’t in vain, maybe he did the right thing.

Sokka thanks him and throws an arm over his shoulder when they recount their story over the campfire that night. They _smile_ at him- Sokka, Aang, Toph, Sokka’s _father_ (not Katara, not yet)- and for the first time in a while, he actually smiles back.

 

xxix. 

Katara threatens him the first night he stays with Team Avatar. She reminds him of his little sister for a spilt second, all ice cold certainty and sharp words. That tiny thought is enough to keep him up, gaze locked on the door, for the rest of the night.

It’s not that he doesn’t understand where her hatred is coming from- he’s actually surprised she’s the only one- but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with.

When he finds out about her mother, he offers her the chance to get some closure. Partially because he wants to do something for her, to make things up to her, and partially because he knows if he ever got a chance like this for his mother, he’d take it in a heartbeat.

Katara is strong, and the man that killed her mother is so pathetically weak. He begs her not to hurt him, not to kill him, and Katara complies— not for the man, no, but because she is strong and she won’t stoop to his level. He’s not sure he could say the same thing about himself. Zuko can’t help but respect her for that.

Revenge isn’t always the answer. Zuko knows this, but he also knows that Katara will never be able to forgive the man for what he did. Zuko won’t ever forgive him either.

“But I am ready to forgive you,” she says, and she hugs him.

He feels relief settle in the pit of his stomach as he wraps his arms around her in return.

 

xxx.

Sokka asks to spar with him the first night on Ember Island.

When Zuko asks why, he just shrugs and says, “Can’t sleep. Too restless.”

Zuko gets that- the comet is almost here, and the Avatar is still twelve years old.

When he unsheathes his swords, he wonders vaguely if the Blue Spirit is sitting at the bottom of Lake Laogai, or maybe if someone found him, if he became someone else. A part of him wishes he still had the mask. It made using the blades easier- the Blue Spirit wasn’t a firebender, he wasn’t a prince, he was free, wild, graceful.

But the Blue Spirit is dead and gone so Prince Zuko takes his swords in his hands and stands across from a Southern Water Tribe peasant and bows.

Sokka is a surprisingly skilled opponent. He’s not a bender, so he doesn’t fight as an extension of any element, but as an extension of himself. They go back and forth, swinging and blocking and jumping until they’re too tired to lift themselves back off of the ground. It ends in a draw.

“Who,” Zuko heaves, staring up at the night sky on his back, “ _trained_ you?”

He hears Sokka cough next to him, sounding just as breathless as Zuko feels, “The one and only Master Piandao,” he says.

Zuko sits up and blinks down at him, “Piandao?” he repeats, “He trained _you?”_

“Yeah.” Sokka sounds like he’s deciding whether or not to be offended.

“Piandao trained _me.”_

“Wait, really?” There’s a pause, and Sokka laughs, “Spirits, that’s not _fair._ No wonder you’re so good.”

Zuko allows himself a small laugh too, and he falls onto his back again, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Two nights later, after they get back from that shitty play, Sokka asks to spar again.

Zuko doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

 

 xxxi.

Aang disappears only days before the comet returns because _something_ has to go wrong, and no one bothered to tell Zuko that they weren’t going to face the Fire Lord until there’s no world left to save.

Aang disappears and not even Zuko can find him, and he has _three years_ of Avatar-hunting experience.

Aang disappears and they go to find Uncle, because Uncle is the only one else in the world who has a chance of beating his fa— beating the Fire Lord.

Aang disappears, and Zuko is _terrified_ of facing Uncle again, even if it’s been almost constantly on his mind. He thinks maybe that makes him a coward.

He waits until Uncle wakes up. Waits as Uncle turns away from him, doesn’t look at him. He’s gone over this scene over and over again in his mind, practiced the words he’s going to say countless times, but all of it slides away, his mind goes blank, he can’t do anything but apologize- I’m so, so sorry, Uncle, I’m so sorry, I—

And then Uncle’s arms are around him and there’s a hand on the back of his head and Zuko _doesn’t understand._

“I was never angry with you,” his uncle says, and there’s a hitch in his voice and Zuko knows he’s crying- they both are, “I was sad, because I thought you’d lost your way.”

He’s so fucking _gentle,_ and _spirits,_ Zuko’s missed him so much.

He’s missed him, but he can’t stay. The comet is coming- it’s practically here- and Uncle’s not coming with them. He’s not coming with them, and he won’t become Fire Lord, because—

“It has to be someone with a pure heart, and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.”

Everything is changing so fast and he can’t keep up anymore.

 

 xxxii.

He’s always known on some level that there would come a day when he’d have to face his sister.

When he sees her- hair uneven, eyes tired, about to be crowned- he wishes it didn’t have to be today.

 _Agni Kai_ , she says, sounding so much like their father that he almost flinches.

But this something he has to do- she knows that as much as he does. So they stand on opposite sides of the courtyard, they turn and face each other and he tries not to think about his last Agni Kai in the Fire Nation.

“I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother.” and her movement is all wrong.

“No you’re not.” He replies.

And then there’s fire.

Fire, fire, so much fire, colliding in waves of blue and orange and he pours his soul into that fire, blast after blast and he knows his sister (his _sister_ ) is doing the same.

The same sister who smiled at him as he taught her her how to write her name, the same sister who teased him every waking moment, the same sister who watched their father burn half his face off, the same sister who tried to kill him. The same sister he used to play tag with on the beach. Her smile is gone and so is her sneer, she’s pouring her _sanity_ into her fire and the simple question hits him like landslide: how did it come to this? What happened to them?

He wonders even as he jumps in front of Katara and feels the electricity race through his body. Even as he hears the fight going on around them, hears Azula laughing like she’s never laughed before.

_What happened to them?_

And he can’t- he can’t help it— his little sister is chained and screaming and crying and crying and crying because everything she’s worked for is crumbling down around her and it feels wrong to try to be satisfied by the fact that it’s her for once- he can’t be satisfied, the thought makes him want to throw up and his little sister cries and he wants to cry too. He wants to cry for her and with her and her voice cuts through his heart like a blade and Agni above, he wants to cry 

 

xxxiii. 

He _does_ cry when he finds out that everyone is alive.

Everyone is _alive._

Even his father, who is useless and weak and can no longer bend.

Even he is- if he’s being honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d live through it all. He had been prepared to sacrifice himself if it came down to it— and he had. But he’d survived. Thanks to Katara, he’d survived.

 

 xxxiv.

He visits them afterwards— both of them.

His father- pathetic, wallowing in his own filth and too damn proud to look him in the eye or acknowledge everything he’s done- dangles information about his mother over his head because it’s the closest thing left to power he has, and both of them know it.

It takes his a very long time to bring himself to visit Azula though.

She is a wilting flower, wrapped up tightly and locked away in a room where she can’t bend, can’t hurt anyone, can’t hurt herself. She poured the last bit of herself into her fire, and her fire is gone.

The first time he visits, she doesn’t even look at him. He talks, carefully at first. She doesn’t turn her head. She doesn’t even seem to notice he’s there.

And still, he visits. Something- _something_ in her eyes, in her face, in her thin (she’s been refusing her food, he’s told) body bent in on itself that draws him back. He sees nothing of the little girl who used to tease him, nothing of the powerful warrior she grew into, and it scares him.

“What happened to us?” he asks again one day, asks her, and he can’t help the desperation that leaks into his voice.

She turns and looks at him with those dull, spark-less eyes and stares, and he thinks that says enough.

 

 xxxv.

The hardest part of a war isn’t winning it, Zuko thinks, but everything that comes after that.

And everything’s moving so _fast-_ one minute he’s lying on a bed in the middle of a healing session listening to Sokka tell the story of how they took down the air fleet, and the next he’s being dressed for his _coronation_ as the new _Fire Lord._

A part of him wonders if he’s dreaming.

He stares at himself in the mirror, fully dressed in too many royal layers. His hair is done up in a traditional topknot, a few wisps hanging loose on his forehead. His scar stands out against his pale skin, just as it always has. But it doesn’t glare at him like it used to, it doesn’t fill his throat with shame and bile when he looks at it. He doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like what it stands for. But it’s a part of him. Without it, he wouldn’t be the same person he sees staring back at him.

He’s fucking _terrified_ of being Firelord- it was enough asking a bunch of teenagers to save the world, but asking one of them to run a country? It’s almost as crazy as asking a child to be the Avatar. Not that any of them were ever asked- these things were forced upon them all.

But if being the Firelord is what he has to do to set things right, to fix this broken down screwed up nation of his, than he will do it.

The Avatar, _Aang,_ is waiting for him when he draws himself together enough to face the world. He looks so much older than twelve dressed in the clothing of his people, but he looks peaceful. He looks ready.

“I can’t believe a year ago, my goal in life was hunting you,” he says, only half-joking.

“I can’t believe a year ago I was still stuck in an iceberg.” Aang says back.

“And now…”

“And now we’re friends.” Aang smiles. Zuko thinks back to the boy who destroyed his ship that first time, thinks back to the fire and the masters and how everything fell into place.

“Yeah,” he says, he smiles, “We are friends.”

Together, they step out into world.

“Firelord Zuko.”

The name rings through the air, the feeling of Aang’s hug still lingering, the feeling of Azula’s lightning still fresh, the feeling of hundreds of eyes on him as the hairpiece slides in place.

The crowd cheers.

_Firelord Zuko._

He’s not sure if he likes it or not, after everything that’s happened, but he’ll wear the title with pride. 

Zuko is born into fire, and in fire, he will live.

 


End file.
